


A Lover’s Interlude

by qupecupid



Category: Carry On - Rainbow Rowell, Fangirl - Rainbow Rowell
Genre: Borderline Smut, But pretty hot and heavy, During Carry On, Fluff, M/M, Mentions of Penny and Agatha, No Sex, Right Between Chapters 67 and 68, SnowBaz
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-17
Updated: 2018-05-17
Packaged: 2019-05-08 03:06:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,843
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14685168
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/qupecupid/pseuds/qupecupid
Summary: An interpretation of what happened between chapters 67 and 68. The honeymoon stage warrants a little honeymooning, even if it stays pretty PG-13. Best read right after reading chapter 67 again. Enjoy <3





	A Lover’s Interlude

SIMON

I'm pretty sure Baz sharing his food with me is a show of good faith. Or something.  
I already ate my weight in stuffing at dinner, but I find myself eating most of the plate anyway. I wonder vaguely if bacon is Baz’s favorite food.  
“To think I was concerned about eating in front of you.” He says. I can tell it’s more teasing than anything, but I’m still defensive.  
“How’dya mean?”  
The corner of Baz’ mouth pulls slightly, amused.  
“You eat like a dying merewolf.”  
I hold my fork, a bit indignant.  
“Well, I’m sorry I wasn’t raised in a goth version of Buckingham Palace.”  
“Right, one: it is not gothic and two: clearly you have never actually been to Buckingham Palace.”  
“I've seen the outside.”  
Baz rolls his eyes.  
Crowley, his eyes. Like like grey ice. I could probably come up with a better metaphor, but he catches me staring before I can think much more on it.  
“Alright, Snow?” He cocks and eyebrow at me.  
I think about kissing his perfect brow. But we still haven’t said much else about… this. I want this. I know I want this. I know he does too.  
“Fine. Er… Baz?”  
“I’m the only person in the room, Snow.”  
“Right.” I rub the back of my neck, nervous. I hate words. Or words hate me. Particularly right now. I just want to know more about him. I know most things about him already, but I want more… intimate things. Like what he dreams about, like actual dreams. Or how many rooms his house actually has.  
“What’s your favorite color?” That sounded so lame. I am so lame.  
Baz actually kind of laughs. “That’s all? You sounded like you were going to ask me if I killed Princess Di.”  
“Did you?” I realize I wouldn’t know.  
“Jesus and the Mary Chain, no. I wasn’t born yet. We’re the same age. You’re just a little behind mentally.”  
“I’m trying to get to know you.” I retort.  
“‘Get to know me’?” Baz laughs.  
“Look, I told you I’m a shit boyfriend. Just tell me.”  
“My favorite color is likely blue.” Baz informs me, setting aside the now empty plate. His fangs have gone. He still looks cool, leaning on the ornate bedpost. I need to stop thinking about kissing him. Penny would say it's counterproductive. For me to kiss him. Or to be here. I shove Penny out of my mind and try to pretend it's just Baz and I, if only for a moment.  
“Why?” I ask.

BAZ

I will be damned if I tell Simon Snow that my favorite color is blue only because of his stupid eyes. Just blue. Nothing to fancy. As a Pitch (and a vampire) one would think (or hope) I would have some luxurious velvety red as my favorite color, but no. Blue. Simon’s-eyes-blue.  
“Dunno.” I say.  
Simon, who’s shit at making conversation anyway, finds this acceptable.  
He’s staring at me again, which is a dream come true, but also deeply unnerving. I redirect.  
“What’s your favorite color, Snow? Purple and green like your beloved Watford?”  
“Don't think I have one.”  
“Everyone has a favorite color, Simon.” Fuck, I've said it again.  
“You said it again!” He’s noticed.  
“Said what?” I play it off.  
“My name.”  
“I did no such thing.” It's hard to keep a straight face when he looks at me like that. Like maybe I’m the most beautiful thing in the world.  
He leans forward slightly, laughing. His hands land on my leg. He doesn’t notice but I do. His hands are so warm. Always so warm. I look up and he’s closer to me than he was before. Staring again. Like he’s never looked at me before, like he never wants to stop. He’s so… gorgeous. Immediately I feel myself trying to shove the thought down, but I don't have to do that anymore. Everything I've wanted to do, I could do now, if he wanted. He said he did. So I tell him.

SIMON

“You’re gorgeous, Simon Snow.” Baz whispers to me. He must be tired to be so blunt. I grin a bit, but don’t break eye contact.  
“Not so bad yourself.” I whisper back. I don't know why were whispering, there’s no one else here. I don't think I could break eye contact if I tried. He’s looking at me like he did in the forest, in the fire. Remembering the fire makes everything seem warmer. I try not to think too much about fire in case I burn him. I don’t think. I just feel. I’m suddenly so aware of where I am, in my body, in space, so close to Baz. Maybe I’m nervous. He raises a hand to my face, and I don't care about anything else. He traces a finger across my lips. I kiss it. He smiles in such a way.  
“Crowley, Simon. This is some truce.”  
He licks his lower lip. Suddenly I can't stand it. I lunge toward him, one hand on his chest, pushing him back into the headboard of his bed. Bloody hell, I’m in Baz’s bed. He gasps slightly and I kiss him, hard. The only light in his room is the fireplace. So when I close my eyes there’s no light, just Baz. I never want to stop kissing him.

BAZ

Simon Snow doesn’t just growl when he’s angry. Also when he’s turned on. I’m so fucking glad I lived long enough to know that. It’s intoxicating when he kisses me. He pulls away suddenly and like a disoriented puppy I realize I’ve leaned forward slightly, missing him. I would be embarrassed but then I open my eyes. Simon is taking off his shirt. Kill me now, he’s shirtless. All tan and freckles. Like the bloody sun, backlit on my bed. Simon Snow is on my bed. He leans in to kiss me again, and I catch his bare waist, pulling him down. Just as I think I need air he pulls away. I wonder if he can read my mind at this point. He starts kissing my cheek, my jaw, my Adam’s apple. He knows not to kiss my neck directly since last night. He didn’t take off his shirt last night. His lips pull at my collarbone. I hope it bruises. I take my hand through his hair and he slips a hand under my shirt and onto my chest. I think I moan aloud. I can’t help it. He pulls back and looks me in the eyes.  
“Is this what you meant by happy boyfriends?” He asks.  
“Obviously.” I breathe. Then it’s my turn to push him.

SIMON

Baz is a much better kisser than Agatha, which I shouldn’t think but I do anyway. I don't have any other reference. Agatha always kissed me kind of whimsically I guess. The way Baz kisses me it’s like he needs me to live. Desperate, passionate kisses. He could ask me for anything and I would give it to him. The sun, the moon. I would pull stars down from the sky for him, which is an unusually profound thought for me. Maybe I’m in love.  
I think I’m in love.  
Then Baz pushes me. Not off, but over. He pushed me onto my back on all those lovely sheets and pins me down, legs on either side on my hips. He pulls off his shirt, which I was hoping for. His hair falls into his face and I want him. More than I ever wanted Agatha. More than I ever wanted anything. I want him. He said I could have him. I think we're in love.  
“Baz-“  
Now he’s bent over me, he’s kissing me. He’s slid a hand under my back. Every bit of his skin against mine feels almost electric. Not almost. More than. It’s too much. He kisses my shoulder and I practically groan his name.  
“Baz.”  
“Simon.” He says into my chest. I can feel his breath. Then he pulls up to look at me.  
“Simon.” He says, and I know I'll say whatever he wants so long as he kisses me again. “Simon, tell me you love me.” It’s not a question. It doesn’t have to be.  
“I love you.” I say almost immediately.  
Baz is breathing hard.  
“Say it again.” He’s half commanding, half begging.  
“I love you.”  
“Say my name.” He starts kissing my collarbone again.  
“Baz, I love you. I-“ Baz licks up the center of my chest, and I cry out. It feels so fucking good. My back arches up but his hand stays. He’s holding me up and he won't stop kissing me. I won't stop either. It's like a challenge. I pull back. I hold his head in my right hand.  
“Say it back.”  
Baz smiles. He looks at me, like maybe I’m the most beautiful thing in the world.  
“I love you, Simon Snow.”

BAZ

I don't care if we're doomed. Right now, I don't care about much anything. All I care about is that Simon says he loves me. I've waited years to hear those words. I didn’t think I’d ever actually hear them. This can't be real. It's too wonderful. I don't deserve this. But it is real, because Simons nails are digging into my back and he won't let go he won't stop kissing me. I hope the sun never rises. I hope time stops. I hope-  
“Baz.”  
The only thing that can stop me dead in my tracks is Simon saying my name. It sounds like magick when he says it. We’ve stopped kissing. We’re laying on the bed, facing each other, legs tangled. Simon keeps looking at me. I keep looking at the many bruises trailing down his body. I tired to avoid his neck, but he’s still got them. I think about how he’s mine.  
“There are still other words in the English language.” I say  
“Not as important.” He says  
Fuck me, he’s good at this.  
Time passes differently when you’re in love. Slower, but overall too fast. It dreadful. There’s never enough time. For anyone. I’m so tired I can't remember everything but lots of kissing. At one point, Simon bit my ear and I thought I might die all over again. If Simon is a fire I don't care if I burn. 

SIMON

I think I might have gone a bit far biting his ear, but the sound he made was well worth it. I don’t remember falling asleep, only waking up when Baz moved away from me. The duvet rustled.  
I turn in the dark and catch his arm.  
“Baz.”  
He shushes me gently, like lovers in films do. “I have to hunt. I'll be back.”  
“Baz.” I hold his hand in both of mine. “The bed’ll get cold.”  
He leans over and kisses my forehead. It's the second time that’s ever happened to me. I think forehead kisses mean something different. Something about care.  
“I'll be right back.” He says. Then he’s gone, and I’m asleep again.

**Author's Note:**

> I was honestly sad this didn’t happen in the book but I think Rowell lowkey just gave us fanfic opportunities. I love her. I wrote this because honestly I don’t think there’s enough fanfics of ships just mackin’. And lord knows I needed to hear the “I love you” moment aloud. Thanks for reading and please leave a comment! I want to post more since I write a lot more than I post.  
> \- Stella Powers


End file.
